Chapter Text
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"I guess this isn't the worst place to sleep," Mouse said.
Perhaps it wasn't: a bench in the park definitely seemed cleaner and safer than a trashcan in an alleyway. But a trashcan had something the bench didn't.
Shelter.
The first snowflakes that fell onto them didn't worry Spraypaint. In fact, he was amazed by them. It had been a long time since it snowed in the city - global warming impeded the local climate in their parts. He stared at them, mouth hung open in fascination. They felt cold and funny, like sequins dancing on his skin.
But then the wind started blowing, and there was even more snow falling on them - the snowflakes no longer gentle, gaining velocity and impact instead.
Spraypaint wrinkled his nose. "Mouse... I think the park bench is quickly falling down our tierlist of beds."
"Mhm..." She looked up at the sky. "Maybe it'll stop." She seemed tired, and he knew she didn't have the will to look for a new place. My fault, he thought, I dragged her along all day.
"Alright." He scooted closer to her, not wanting to argue. She contently leaned on him, and he felt his stomach fill with butterflies, the sensation making him smile like an idiot. He'd give anything to protect Mouse - he'd felt that way for a long time, but he felt it even more so after last night in Speaker's cell.
He'd never fully repay her kindness, but he could try.
They sat next to each other, the wind howling and whooshing over them. Spraypaint could feel his body stiffen with cold and with worry, the smile quickly dropping from his face. He turned over his hand, shaking off the little bit of snow that had gathered on it. He looked at the sky, which was alarmingly more grayish and blurry than the last time he had checked.
He could feel his friend shivering next to him.
"Mouse," he said, nudging her. "We have to go."
She blinked her eyes open, looking at him, then simply slid off the bench.
He did the same, putting his feet on the gravel path. A new wave of cold went up his legs, and he suddenly missed the slight warmth of the bench that had gathered on it from his own body heat. Spraypaint clenched his teeth, shaking off more snow from his body, then briefly looking around and motioning Mouse to follow him.
"We have to find someplace warm," he said. "You think a homeless center will take us?"
"Worth a try," she murmured. Her tone of voice seemed hesitant, however.
They already knew where some facilities that could help them were. The city's council and the department for taking care of the homeless, although how well they did their job was questionable. A volunteer food truck someplace in North Creek, generous with nutrition, but often hard to find because of changing its location. And the city's sole homeless center, which was almost always full and which gathered a line of people every evening - people like them, hoping to find a free bed for the night.
Most of the time Spraypaint and Mouse didn't bother fighting for a place there. During summer and fall the air still had an acceptable temperature to sleep outside at night. Truth be told, they hadn't thought about what they would do in winter.
Perhaps now was the time to re-evaluate that.
North Creek seemed eerily empty while they walked through the streets. People that had been previously outside now hid from the possible oncoming snowstorm. The only commotion came from the cars, rushing through the streets to deliver their tardy passengers home. Spraypaint tried not to think about the omen of the bad weather, looming above the two of them right now.
Mouse kept quiet throughout the walk to the facility. When he turned around to check up on her, she gave him a small smile, but her eyes had a distant look, like something was troubling her. He supposed it must be the cold, and he reminded himself to walk quickly.
After a while, through the snowy mist limiting the visibility, they spotted a brown-red building, its windows shining with light, a big sign with the name 'NORTH CREEK HOMELESS CENTER' hanging above the front door.
"Phew, we found it..." Spraypaint sighed.
"You think we'll g-get in?" Mouse asked, a stutter sneaking into her voice from the shivering. "I-I mean, look at- t'line."
Twenty people were stacked up into a line in front of the entrance. Most were silent, but some of them were murmuring, talking, some even shouting at each other.
Spraypaint swallowed nervously. "We have to try. Maybe they haven't run out of room yet." He placed a hand on Mouse's back, trying to comfort his friend and himself at the same time.
"They won't let anymore folks in," a guy spoke up to them, when Spraypaint and Mouse got close to the line. "Lowlife screamin' at'a front probably just sealed that."
Spraypaint glanced over to the beginning of the line, where another homeless man was arguing with a volunteer, loudly demanding himself to be placed inside. He scrunched his brows, turning away from the noise. "They've got to have more space though, right? We can even sleep on the floor... anything that's indoors."
"Not a chance," snorted the guy talking to them, a bean can. "It lowers the standards, pro bonos won't let you do that." He leaned sideways, looking at the argument at the doorway, then shrugged. "Better find yourself a place elsewhere."
Spraypaint stood there dazed, staring after the guy, who took his leave. Meanwhile, a loud slam came from the front.
He snapped his gaze towards it, and his heart sank.
The door was closed.
The homeless that had been waiting were now starting to scatter, finding it hopeless to stay anymore. Only the first man kept yelling and banging on the door.
Spraypaint turned his disappointed look to Mouse.
"I think we have to find somewhere else."